


Sharp Dressed Man

by notvelma



Series: Whiskey Bent and Hell Bound [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notvelma/pseuds/notvelma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank takes Tommy as his "plus-one" to a work function and it doesn't go well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharp Dressed Man

**Author's Note:**

> I put Tommy in a suit, basically. Warning for sibling incest and badly written sex. Takes place after Thanksgiving.

"I look so fucking stupid," grumbled Tommy, his voice muffled through the bathroom door. "I don't know why I couldn't just wear a shirt and tie. Why the fuck do I gotta get so dressed up? Nobody's going to be looking at me anyway, and they sure as hell don't give a shit what I'm wearing."

Hank let out a sigh, closing his eyes momentarily. "It's a formal occasion, Tommy. You'll stick out like a sore thumb if you're the only one not dressed up. Now come out and let me see; I'm sure you don't look as stupid as you think you do." 

Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to have Tommy come as his plus-one to this event, but Hank hadn't wanted to take anybody else, and he sure as hell hadn't wanted to go alone. It was an award ceremony for a couple members of Hank's precinct, and while he wouldn't be receiving anything tonight, everybody was expected to attend. Most of them would be bringing spouses or partners and since Hank wasn't exactly dating the traditional way, Tommy was his only option.

As Tommy stepped out of the bathroom, pulling nervously at the lapels on his suit jacket, he said, "Won't they think it's weird you're taking your brother as your date? I mean, fuck, at least you coulda taken Jen if you were so scared about going alone." He glanced up at Hank, brows furrowed in frustration.

His words of protest were lost on Hank, though, as Hank finally got a full look at Tommy in his suit. Hank had picked it out for him, because of course Tommy didn't know a goddamn thing about what to wear to these kinds of events. It was easy for Hank to see that he'd made the right choice – the cut of the black jacket outlined Tommy's muscular figure but managed to make him look a little less scary, the pinstripes adding an element of style that Tommy probably never would have thought to include. Everything fit perfectly, and with his hair neatly combed and facial hair trimmed, he looked more than just presentable. He looked like a fucking model on the cover of GQ. It almost wasn't fair.

"You didn't tie your tie properly," said Hank. He licked his lips almost subconsciously, and reached forward to fix Tommy's tie for him. It was moments like these when he was aware of Tommy's sheer size, because even standing right up in front of Tommy, there was still a noticeable height difference between the two of them. 

With his hands on the back of Tommy's neck, smoothing out the blue tie – Hank had picked that out, too, to match Tommy's eyes – Hank realized how easy it would be to lean up and kiss him. He didn't want to wrinkle the suit, though, and they had to leave shortly. Getting Tommy started would just make them late, and Hank didn't want to have to make up an excuse for his coworkers about it.

"Are you wearing a fucking bow tie?" asked Tommy when Hank had finished and pulled back. "God, you are such a fucking nerd." 

Hank straightened his bow tie, feeling a bit of a sting of embarrassment at Tommy's comment. "This suit goes with the bow tie. I have to wear them together." It wasn't like he was wearing tweed and glasses or anything. His suit and bow tie were both gray, paired with a black dress shirt, and he thought he looked quite dapper. He'd worn this suit before and it always got him good results. 

Watching him, Tommy licked his lips very purposely. "You look like a fucking school boy getting ready for prom. I want to peel you out of those goddamn clothes and fuck you over the couch until you scream." He reached for his brother. 

"We don't have time." Hank put his hand on Tommy's chest to hold him back. "We should, um, we should probably get going. I don't want to be late." He stepped back and went to grab his wallet and keys before he got carried away and started something he couldn't finish.

*

"Can't believe you brought your brother," said Sergeant Richter, shaking his head. "How many fucking times have we picked him up for drunk and disorderly? You sure he ain't gonna start anything?" He glanced over at the bar, where Tommy was supposed to be getting drinks for the two of them.

Sighing, Hank said, "This place is wall to wall cops, Gene. My brother's not an idiot; he's not going to do anything tonight. I told him to behave."

Gene rolled his eyes. "Oh, and he listens to you?" He ran his hand through his dirty blond hair. "I may not have any brothers, but even I know siblings ain't supposed to listen to each other. That's like the rule of sibling rivalry. Isn't he older than you anyway?" 

"So?" He didn't want to have to defend his relationship with his brother, especially when Gene didn't know a goddamn thing about it. Hank sighed and looked around, wondering if there was somebody else he could go talk to that wouldn't be do fucking nosy. 

"Your vodka cranberry, sir," said Tommy, handing the drink to Hank. His tie was already loose, and Hank had to resist the urge to straighten it for him. "I forget what you said your name was." Tommy nodded at Gene, but Hank recognized the expression on his brother's face. Tommy had forgotten on purpose; for whatever reason, he didn't seem to like Gene too much.

Both men were tall, muscular, and tattooed, but Tommy was bigger. Gene, however, had the benefit of being more classically handsome, where Tommy had more of a rough-hewn look that perhaps was an acquired taste. Could it be that Tommy was intimidated by Gene's looks? 

"It's Gene. Gene Richter. I think I've arrested you before," said the sergeant. He gave Tommy a return look that was just as challenging as the one Tommy had offered him. The sparks of rivalry between them were obvious and it made Hank extremely nervous.

_Abort mission!_ Hank's brain was screaming at him. "Hey, Tommy, why don't I introduce you to a couple other people while we're still here?" he suggested. "Ah, Gene, it was nice talking to you." He nodded, and then grabbed Tommy's elbow with his free hand to steer him away.

"I don't like him," said Tommy, grumbling. "Look at his fucking smarmy face. I hate those assholes who're so fucking hot and they know it. All I want to do is punch him and break his nose." He sighed heavily. "I don't want to meet any more of your coworkers. I just want to go home, Hank." His voice was getting dangerously close to a whine. It wasn't even that late in the evening yet.

"We haven't been here long enough," said Hank. "Just because the ceremony is over doesn't mean we can just leave. We have to mingle a little more." He didn't really want to introduce Tommy to all of his coworkers – not if there was going to be a repeat of what happened with Gene – but he had obligations. Part of attending the ceremony and the banquet was to socialize. 

Tommy sighed heavily but he didn't say anything else. "Okay, introduce me to that guy over there," he said, shooting a glance at a guy across the room. 

Following Tommy's gaze, Hank saw who his brother was looking at and rolled his eyes. "No."

"Why not? He's cute." The wolfish grin on Tommy's face was enough to make Hank wish he had never even brought his brother in the first place. 

"Because," said Hank with the patience of one talking to a child – or just a drunk big brother, "That's my boss, and I don't think it's a great idea for you to meet him today, especially not if you're going to try to hit on him or something." The idea of Tommy flirting with his boss was enough to have Hank's whole body twist up inside. 

Hank was nervous to see that Detective Wulff was heading toward them, apparently having seen Tommy pointing at him earlier. Warren Wulff was Hank's direct supervisor, and he was usually a pretty serious guy. Nearly anything Tommy could say to him would probably end up offending the man, and Hank did not want to be in the middle of that. He was starting to think he shouldn't have brought Tommy.

"So, is this the infamous Tommy Howard?" said the detective, offering a handshake. Warren was not a small man, but he still had to look up to meet Tommy's eyes. He did not, however, seem the least bit intimidated. Hank knew it was because he'd taken down men bigger, stronger, and scarier than Tommy in the nearly twenty years he'd been on the force. Still, he looked impressed. "Well, it's no wonder Hank can't keep you under control. Aren't you just a big fella?"

Grinning, Tommy shook the detective's hand. "That's what they tell me." He winked at Hank. "My brother said you were his boss, but I didn't catch your name." It was the tone of his voice and the way he subtly angled his body toward Warren's – Tommy was flirting, the bastard. He was flirting and Hank couldn't even say anything about it because he wasn't about to broadcast to the whole precinct that he was in love with his brother. He wasn't allowed to act jealous, not here, not now.

"You work out?" Tommy asked, once Warren had introduced himself. "You look like the kinda man that spends a lot of time in the gym."

Hank rolled his eyes. The whole thing was too much for him, and he went back to the refreshment table to get himself another drink. He was only allowing himself two, since he'd be the one driving them home, and he wanted to make the second one last.

As he sipped his drink, Hank wondered if this was how it would always be for them – going out in public as brothers, trying to act like he didn't care that Tommy would flirt with just about anybody. He still didn't understand the parameters of their relationship, and he was afraid to ask. Did Tommy ever fuck other people, or did he stop at flirting? While Hank didn't really want to sleep with anyone else, he still wanted to know how Tommy would react if he did. 

A hand on his shoulder drew Hank out of his thoughts. 

It was Gene standing there, and he'd taken off his tie, leaving the top two buttons of his shirt undone as well. His dirty blond hair was a bit disheveled, like he'd been running his hands through it constantly – knowing Gene, he probably had – but he looked good. Gene was a good looking guy anyway, but there was something about the exposed column of his throat, the chest hair peeking out, the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt revealing well-muscled arms and the flush of his cheeks that made him suddenly, startlingly appealing to Hank. 

"Big brother staying out of trouble so far?" asked Gene. Though he'd gotten Hank's attention, he kept his hand on the other man's shoulder. Hank found that he didn't mind at all; the gesture seemed so natural that he barely even noticed. His body was close enough for Hank to smell his cologne, and though it was mixed in with the faint smell of his sweat, Hank recognized the spicy masculine scent as being very similar to the one that Tommy wore – perhaps even the same one.

Hank could feel his senses going haywire and he wondered if maybe he hadn't had too much to drink already. He found himself thinking about what it would be like to kiss Gene. Swallowing his thoughts, Hank replied, "He's behaving as well as can be expected." Almost subconsciously, he was leaning into Gene, probably sending Gene all sorts of way-too-obvious messages. He didn't know what he was doing. If he was trying to make Tommy jealous, that was the worst idea of all time and it would only end in trouble for all of them. 

"You know," said Gene carefully. "If you want to drop your big brother off at home, you could swing by my place for a little while, if you want." He was eyeing Hank a little hopefully, like he wasn't quite sure what kind of answer to expect.

_Oh, fuck,_ thought Hank, because wow did he want that. He really wanted to get Gene naked and explore that body and –

"You wanna get your hand off my brother?" snapped Tommy, appearing out of nowhere. He loomed over Gene like an angry giant. "Don't fucking touch him, you prick." 

Instantly, Gene backed off. "Uh, whoa. What is the deal here?" He looked at Tommy warily, but Hank could also recognized that Gene was assessing the situation the way any good officer would, trying to discern if Tommy posed a threat to him or not, and whether he'd need to draw his weapon.

If Gene pulled his gun, there was no telling what would happen, and Hank really did not want to find out. He put his hand on Tommy's chest. "Relax," he said. "Gene and I were talking. There's no need for you to barge in here to preserve my honor or some shit." Like Gene, Hank also tried to read his brother to figure out what his intentions were. This whole thing had been a bad idea in the first place, Hank realized that now. He should have known that taking Tommy to a fancy dinner where there would be drinks was a bad idea. 

"I'm ready to go home," said Tommy. "This place is full of assholes anyway." He was looking specifically at Gene, arms crossed over his massive chest. He didn't even have to try hard to be very intimidating; right now even Hank was a bit nervous about what Tommy might do.

"I'm sorry, Gene," said Hank. "I think he's had too much to drink. I'd better take him home." He felt like a parent having to leave the grocery store with a screaming kid in tow rather than being able to finish shopping, and he was a little upset at Tommy for having ruined his evening. 

Nodding, Gene said, "Yeah, probably better to take him home before he pisses the wrong guy off." Gene himself looked like he was having trouble holding onto his own frustration at the situation, but Hank could tell that he had some questions he wanted to ask. "Text me later though, okay?" 

Hank gave a noncommittal sort of nod at that, and grabbed his brother's elbow. As they left, Hank definitely started to feel like a parent caring for an unruly child and he hated Tommy for being the one that had to misbehave and ruin everything. Maybe it was his own fault for thinking they could have just had a nice night out with Hank's coworkers.

Once in the car, he turned to Tommy. "What the fuck was that?" 

"I should be asking you the same fucking thing. That guy had his hands all over you, the prick." Tommy was shaking, his hands curled into fists in his lap. 

Exhaling slowly, Hank said, "He was just flirting." His own hands were shaking as well, because he didn't know how Tommy would react. "You were flirting with Warren," he added, unable to keep the accusation from his tone.

"Is that what this is about? Are we playing some sort of stupid game here? Christ, Hank, are we adults or not?" Tommy was surprisingly articulate for somebody who was as drunk as he seemed to be. "Besides that guy was asking you to go to his place to fuck. That's a little bit different than just flirting." 

Huffing, Hank put his hands up on the steering wheel. He didn't look at Tommy because he was afraid of what he'd see there. This was not something he wanted to deal with, and he wished he'd never brought it up. He wanted to rewind back several hours, to before they'd even left for the party. 

"I don't know what you want from me anymore." He was hesitating starting the car up because things wouldn't be any different when they got home. At least here, in the parking lot of the banquet hall, there wasn't much they could do except talk. "What is this that we even have here?" 

Tommy groaned. "Is this the 'where is our relationship going' talk? For fuck's sake, Hank. We're brothers and we fuck. What more do you want from me? It's not like we can go out on fucking dates or shit like that. Everybody knows that we're brothers, and I'm sorry if you don't like me acting like a single man. As far as anybody knows, I _am_ single."

"Oh, right, okay, so you're single, but I know that when we get home you're going to tell me that you love me and you're going to fuck me and fall asleep next to me. What is that, then? What the fuck am I supposed to call that?" Hank couldn't keep the frustration from his voice, and he slammed his hand on the steering wheel again. "Why are you allowed to get jealous over Gene talking to me if you're the one telling me we're supposed to act single? Single guys don't get jealous over other men flirting with their brothers!" he exclaimed. 

Next to him, Tommy said nothing. 

Hank hated this, because he knew he'd never get anything out of Tommy – not anything real, anyway. His brother would talk real big, maybe, but when it came down to it, Tommy would never tell him what he wanted and they would just keep going around in circles, fighting over the same stupid shit and never solving any of their problems.

"Whatever," said Hank finally. "I don't give a shit anymore anyway." He started up the car and headed for home. Neither of them said anything for the rest of the drive, and when they got back to the house, Tommy took a couple beers out of the fridge and went into the living room to watch TV. 

For a moment, Hank stood in the kitchen alone, wondering if maybe this was the way it was supposed to end. Was he to blame for this? Was anybody to blame? Maybe the answer was right in front of them – maybe this was their punishment for being sick and perverted and doing things that they should never have done in the first place.

He wanted to be with Tommy, but he didn't like all this sneaking around and playing games and whatever else was happening with them. He wanted to have a real relationship, where they could be boyfriends and just live like normal people without everything else getting in the way. And with Tommy, there was no chance of that happening. It made his chest ache.

Leaving Tommy alone in the living room, Hank went down the hall to his bedroom, where he took off his suit and bow tie and went to bed alone.

*

It was hard to tell how much time had passed when Hank found himself being woken up by the weight of another body on the bed. He didn't remember when he'd fallen asleep, but the clock on his bedside table told him that it was just past three in the morning.

"Hank, 'm sorry," said Tommy, his mouth by Hank's ear. He slung his arm over Hank's chest and tucked himself in close. "I love you. Sorry for being an asshole." 

"Tommy..." sighed Hank. He really didn't want to have this conversation at three in the morning with his most likely drunk brother. "Just go to bed," he said. "We can talk in the morning when I'm actually coherent." Still, he couldn't deny that he was glad that Tommy had come to his room and come to his bed to apologize. He'd sleep much better now.

But Tommy seemed not to hear Hank's objections – or if he did, he didn't seem to care. He kissed Hank's neck, pushing up the hem of Hank's t-shirt at the same time. "I have a game I wanna play with you," he said between kisses. "And I think you'll like this game." Without allowing Hank a chance to object, Tommy shifted, pushing the bed sheets away from his brother's body. 

Though Hank had been tired, he was starting to wake up a bit more, and he allowed Tommy to help him out of his pajamas, not even complaining when the clothes ended up on the floor rather than in the laundry basket where they belonged. "I wouldn't really call sex a 'game,'" he said drily, once he was lying naked, with Tommy kneeling by his legs. 

His brother wore only a pair of black boxer-briefs that displayed the outline of his impressive cock, and Hank found his eyes drawn to the sight. "The lube is over in the dresser," said Hank. 

Once again, Tommy ignored Hank, making no attempt to go retrieve the lube; he was acting like he wasn't even aware that Hank was speaking. "The game I want to play is called 'no fucking' and the rules are: no fucking. But I get to use my mouth on you until you come." He grinned down at Hank, apparently pleased with his idea. He must have been pretty drunk when he'd come up with it, because they'd never had sex that didn't end up with penetration at some point. Tommy's favorite part was the fucking, or so Hank had assumed. 

He wasn't really sure Tommy was going to be able to play his game to completion, but he wasn't really in a position to complain about the idea of Tommy using his mouth on Hank until he came. Tommy was good with his mouth – and his tongue, and his lips – and Hank never minded having that attention focused on him.

Tommy scooted down until his head was level with Hank's half-hard cock. He glanced up again and gave Hank a wink before taking the base of Hank's cock in one hand, pressing his brother's hip into the mattress with the other one. 

Hank had sort of expected Tommy to go straight for the deep-throating, assuming that his brother would be interested in getting this over as quickly as possible so as to win his little game. Instead, though, Tommy seemed intent on taking his time, starting with a kiss to the head of Hank's cock and following that up with a slow lick on the underside. 

" _Fuck,_ " breathed Hank. " _Christ._ " It was a good thing Tommy's hand was on his hip, because Hank wasn't sure he'd be able to stop his body from bucking up at the contact. There was something about the way Tommy used his mouth and his tongue that was almost too much for Hank. It was different from his other partners, the way Tommy touched him. It was hard for him to think about, but sometimes he felt as though there was a certain reverence there, like Tommy was worshipping him.

_That's blasphemy and you know it._ Hank wasn't even a religious man but the idea of Tommy thinking of him that way – as some _being_ to be worshipped and loved liked that – was scary. He didn't deserve that kind of veneration, not with all the things he'd done wrong in his life. 

But then Tommy looked up at him, hands still on Hank's hips. "You gotta stop churning those wheels in that head of yours, Hank. Only you would be the kind of asshole who doesn't even know how to enjoy a fucking blow job. Now shut your brain off and roll over onto your belly." 

As he rolled over, Hank thought, _I knew he wouldn't be able to do it_ ; it was only a matter of time before Tommy would need to stick his dick in something so he could get off. Hank hadn't come yet, but he didn't mind much. He waited for Tommy's fingers, for the lube or the condom or something, but that wasn't what he got at all.

Tommy pushed him into position, but what Hank got instead was hands on his ass, and Tommy's mouth, Tommy's tongue and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips as his brother continued, eating Hank's ass like it was nothing. 

With his cock pressed up against the sheets, Hank couldn't really do much other than squirm and let Tommy continue. He had to say this was the best sexual experience he'd had in a long time, and Tommy knew exactly what he was doing. He licked up the crack of Hank's ass, up to his lower back, nuzzling his face into Hank's back. It felt better than anything he'd ever done to Hank before. 

"You taste so good," he mumbled into Hank's skin. "I'm so fucking horny right now. I want to fuck you so hard." But instead of making a movement to do so, Tommy just kept licking, nibbling on Hank and making a meal of it. He had a talented mouth, and then sensations were driving Hank to the edge of insanity. 

Hank pushed back against his brother. "Fuck me, please," he pleaded. "I want it, I want it." 

"Not this time," said Tommy sternly, his hand cupping Hank's ass as he licked another stripe down Hank's spine before spreading Hank's ass cheeks. "I said no fucking and I mean it." Then he was face first in Hank's ass again, plunging his tongue inside. 

"So you're just going to sit back there and lick my ass?" It was hard to keep the frustration out of his voice, as much as he was enjoying the sensations Tommy was providing him. When he felt the sudden absence of touch, Hank got up and turned around to face his brother. 

"You don't like my game?" Tommy was pouting a little, hands on his bare thighs. Hank didn't remember Tommy taking off his boxers, but he must have, because his cock jutted up, stiff and proud, with pre-cum leaking from the tip. He looked almost painfully hard and Hank wanted to relieve that for him, wanted to wrap his mouth around it and suck his brother dry. 

"It's a nice game, but isn't it more fun with both of us?" asked Hank. It was awkward for him to be the center of Tommy's attentions like that without being able to give anything back. It wasn't that he didn't like it, but he preferred when he was allowed to touch, too. "C'mon, Tommy, just come over and fuck me already. That hard on has to be hurting you, doesn't it? Let me take care of it for you." He reached out for his brother's hard cock. 

Tommy slapped his hands away and pushed Hank back down on the bed. "I don't get to come until you do, so if you're in such a fucking hurry, then maybe you'll let me blow you so I can finish this already, okay?" He sounded annoyed now, and Hank wanted to mention the fact that this whole thing had been Tommy's idea but he didn't want to make his brother upset anymore.

This time, Tommy seemed to put in twice as much effort as he had before, pressing Hank's hips firmly into the mattress as he took the entire head into his mouth. He was sucking with a goal in mind, and that seemed to drive him to the level of effort previously unseen.

Hank barely had time to warn him before he came, and Tommy seemed determined to swallow it. Hank never understood that part because Tommy seemed to enjoy the taste of come where Hank just found it disgusting. 

Tommy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he got to his knees, looking down at Hank. "I love how you just lie there like a fuckin dishrag after you come," he teased. "Now, dear brother, you mind if I come on your body, or would you prefer to swallow it?" He straddled Hank's stomach and waved his cock in his brother's face. When Hank didn't respond right away, Tommy scooted back a little bit and started stroking his cock. It didn't take him long to get to the edge, and he came on Hank's chest.

"Hng," said Hank, unable to find words, the force of his orgasm leaving him still somewhat breathless and weakened. He blinked up at Tommy. "I love you," he said. "If you blow me like that every day I will forgive you for anything you ever do." He didn't know if he was serious or not, but it was at times like this that he didn't even care about all the shit that he'd gone through with Tommy. 

"Don't say that," said Tommy, even as he climbed off the bed, apparently in search of something with which to clean them up. "You say that but I know you don't mean it. Next time I fuck up, you'll get pissed and we'll have another fight." 

He returned to the bed and wiped Hank off with a towel before tossing it in the pile of laundry on the floor. "If you keep forgiving me for the shit I do, I'm gonna keep doing it," he said. He leaned on his elbow to look down at Hank, and there was something in his eyes that Hank didn't know how to handle.

"I forgive you because I love you," said Hank. "Everybody fucks up." 

Sighing, Tommy rolled onto his back, hands on his stomach. "Maybe." He didn't say anything more, and Hank wondered if there wasn't something else going on that he'd missed. Was this about the dinner, or was it about something else? 

"Tommy, if you want to say something to me, just say it." 

Next to him, Tommy just grumbled. "It's fine. Go to bed." He rolled over again so he was lying half on top of Hank, arm slung around his brother's chest. Within minutes, he was breathing the heavy breath of sleep, his heartbeat steady and strong. 

No longer tired, Hank lay awake for a long time with thoughts churning around in his head. He didn't quite know what had happened, but he had a feeling that Tommy wasn't going to tell him no matter how much he asked. It wasn't worth getting upset about, he told himself. It wasn't anything to worry about, he told himself.

That didn't make it any easier.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm mad at myself for introducing conflict with Jen and Nick and not coming back to that yet, ugh sorry.


End file.
